


One Of Mine

by TheDramaLlama



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Backstory, Confusion, Explanations, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDramaLlama/pseuds/TheDramaLlama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How in Thedas can you say we are friends!?” the rogue exclaimed and she had the audacity to look hurt. “Maker woman! I broke into your fortress! I threatened your life! WHY do you trust me!? Why did you risk you life to save mine?! I don’t understand you!”</p><p>Nathaniel Howe does not understand the Warden Commander. At all. He threatened to kill the woman and she laughed in his face and conscripted him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Nate is a great and complex character who doesn't get nearly enough love.

Darkspawn. It was always fucking Darkspawn now. Nathaniel cursed as he fired a pinning shot at the Hurlock charging at him. Not that the archer had expected much else from the Grey Warden life, but he had thought perhaps there would be some breaks in between battling raging hoards of monsters. He downed the beast and looked back up to see twenty or so more of the vile creatures pouring in from the surrounding caves. Sometimes it was hard to decide whether this life the Commander had pressed him into was better than the alternative.

He had no idea what had possessed the mad elf to recruit him into her band of strays and misfits. Honestly, when he threatened her life within her own gaol in front of her men, he had rather expected a short walk to the noose. He’d had no idea what to say when she laughed in his face and told him that some of her best friends had tried to kill her in the past. Next thing he knew, a goblet of foul smelling liquid was pressed between his hands and he was welcomed into the ranks of Grey with a splitting head ache and nightmares that would haunt him for the rest of his numbered days.

The hoard bore down, crushing through their defenses and barreling toward their position. The mage cursed behind him as he sent a fireball to engulf a concentrated group of the beasts. Nathaniel growled as he scrambled to put an arrow in each enemy. The muscles in his arm screamed in protest as he drew his bow the full length back to get the necessary distance. They had just barely made it out of Kal’ hirol in one piece and if it hadn’t been for Ander’s healing, the group would be dead many times over by now.

Of course, if the Commander had let them get some rest after the battle instead of pressing them immediately to make the trek back to Amaranthine, they would have been in better shape to take this group on. They might have missed them entirely. He cursed the elf again as he dodged a killing blow from one of the three Hurlocks that had made it within five feet of him and fired an arrow into the beast at point blank range. A smoke bomb went off around him and he used the disorientation it caused to escape to the edges of the battle, grunting a thanks to Sigrun. The dwarf threw him a wink and rushed back into battle to wreak havoc with her poisoned daggers.

Maniacal laughter rang over the battle and the archer grit his teeth at the sound. The mad elf tore across the cavern, barreling over several Genlock archers and hacking at them with her enormous Qunari great axe. How the slight woman could even lift the axe was beyond him; yet she twirled it with ease, neatly severing limbs and torsos as she danced across the battlefield, a manic gleam in her eye. There was something off about the way the Commander approached battle. She never avoided a fight. It seemed to be the only time she truly came alive. There was a crazed look about her as blood sprayed from her broken nose and she belted out an unhinged laugh as she head butted the offending Hurlock Alpha to the ground and buried her axe in its head. Nathaniel shuddered as he turned back to the battle.

Things were finally winding down when it happened. The Commander had just finished off the last remaining darkspawn and Anders was tending Sigrun when Nathaniel felt a blade slide against his ribs. He managed to turn and dodge most of the damage, but in doing so he twisted his ankle and fell. The shriek emerged from the shadows that had shrouded it, bringing its blade overhead to strike a killing blow. The mage and dwarf were shouting, but they were too far away to be of any help. He was dead. Nathaniel watched as the twisted creature began to bring the blade down and raised his arm in a weak defense that would ultimately stop nothing.

“HOWE!” a voice bellowed. Suddenly, there was a flying streak of red rushing over him and the shriek was gone. The young Howe lifted himself up in confusion to see the Commander straddling the shriek a few yards away. The mad elf had vaulted over him, tackling the creature and was now grappling with it hand to hand. She had left her great axe buried in the chest of one of the Hurlocks behind him in her haste and was now weaponless, cackling madly as she rained down blows on the shriek.

“Commander! MOVE!” Nathaniel shouted as he drew his bow. The elf fell to the side and he buried his arrow to the fletching into the darkspawn’s head.

The cavern was completely still for a pregnant moment as the shriek fell.

“Tabris!” Anders shouted as he rushed toward the downed elf who had yet to move from where she had thrown herself to get out of Nathaniel’s shot. She groaned in pain as the mage turned her over on her back.

“ ’m fine” the commander coughed out a mouth-full of blood, somewhat calling her statement into doubt. “Check Howe.”

Nathaniel’s brows furrowed as he took in the dagger that was still protruding from her side and the rivulets of red flowing down her plait male. Why in Thedas was she worrying about him? “I’m fine. It was just a glancing blow.”

The elf moved to get up, but fell back onto the floor.

“Maker’s Balls!” The mage swore, his hands glowing blue as he called forth his healing magic. “Nate! Get over here and help me get her chest piece off! Sigrun! Get me another lyrium potion!”

Numbly, Nathaniel found himself hobbling over on his twisted ankle to assist the mage. His hands felt numb as he tried with limited success to work the blood-slicked catches on her armor. Cursing, he pulled out his knife and cut the leather bindings to remove the piece. He hated this woman. He told her so to her face. She had murdered his father, destroyed his family, and made the name ‘Howe’ a curse in all of Fereldan. He gasped as he took in the mangled mess her armor had hidden on her ribs. The Shriek’s dagger had slid right between the chinks in the Commander’s armor, rending a deep tear in the flesh that was bleeding profusely.

“Stone preserve us!” Sigrun breathed as she saw the damage.

“Maker, I swear this woman is trying to get herself killed!” The mage was sweating as he pooled his mana around the wounded elf. “Sigrun, try to get her to swallow a potion.”

“On it.” The dwarf chirped as she reached into the pack. She carefully tilted the Commander’s head back and began trickling the liquid into her mouth. The woman’s skin was pale beneath the blood and gore and she coughed the potion back up.

Nathaniel stared blankly. He had threatened to kill her. He was the son of her enemy. He practically growled at her every time she even tried to talk to him. If she hadn’t taken the blow for him, he would dead. She had every reason to hate him. Why? Why did she do it?

The mage sighed. “You never make anything easy, do you?” he asked the unconscious elf.

“Will she live?” the Howe found himself asking.

Anders gave him an exhausted grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The daft woman’s too stubborn not to.” He glanced around the cavern at the scattered bodies and viscera. “We should find a place and make camp. That way I can heal tend to her more as my mana comes back. Maker knows we won’t make Amaranthine at this rate.”

Nathaniel growled, “If we had rested outside of Kal’ Hirol to begin with, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But no, _she_ just _had_ to get to Amaranthine today! We couldn’t wait and recover a bit first!”

Anders and Sigrun both looked at him as if he had grown another head. “How in Thedas did you draw that conclusion?” The mage barked at him.

“Don’t defend her!” the archer rounded on him now, carried away by the emotions of the day and knowing he should stop talking. “You know we were all exhausted after that last fight. With only a hand full of potions left and little sleep, it’s a wonder this band didn’t slaughter the lot of us! Maker! She drives us like slaves! If the mad woman had given us more than a few minutes of respite we might not even have happened upon this group.”

Sigrun scowled at him. “Ancestors, you’re so dense.”

“You would dare speak against the Commander?” Anders advanced on him, thunder in his eyes. “After she spared you? After all she’s given you? After she JUST SAVED YOUR FUCKING LIFE?!”

Nathaniel began to protest but Anders cut him off. “Couldn’t you sense them? Or are you so deaf to the taint that you missed them? That fucking group of Darkspawn has been tracking us for the past two days! If we had rested, they would have taken us while we slept! The Commander was trying to outrun them so we could reach reinforcements before we had to face them! So maybe she did drive us hard! But the woman always has her fucking reasons for everything she does and you can be fucking sure her biggest fucking priority is making sure her people are safe no matter how little they might deserve it or appreciate it!”

At the archer’s stunned silence, the mage turned away from him, running his hands through his hair and sighing heavily. “Look, just . . . you don’t understand the commander, and you have no room to judge her. So, shut up and get in fucking line.”

Anders walked back over to the unconscious warrior, scooping her up as gently as he could with Sigrun’s help. She was draped across the mage’s back with his staff threaded under her legs, far too pale and still. Nathaniel felt his shame boiling over him as he retrieved the elf’s weapon, carrying it silently as he followed the mage and dwarf.

* * * * *

“Howe! Ho there!” A cheery voice cut through the courtyard of vigils keep and Nathaniel cringed. He had been sneaking along the battlements the last couple days to try to avoid the common areas where the elf might catch him, but apparently it was all for naught. He grit his teeth as the Commander of the Grey hobbled up to him using her axe as a cane and clutching at her still bandaged side.

“Anders has noodle arms and my axe is twice the size of Sigrun . . . So, I’m guessing you played pack mule?” she smiled at him in her oblivious way, as if they weren’t grudging allies.

The archer grunted a yes, trying not to give the elf any more room to converse. Once she got started, she could easily carry the conversation for the two of them by herself.

A low growl sounded behind him and Nathaniel swiveled to see the Commander’s massive, grizzled war hound snarling at him. Anders said the beast had fought with her during the blight and Nathaniel believed him. The massive creature regarded the archer coolly with his one remaining eye. This was the greeting he always got from the beast. It had never forgiven him for breaking into the keep nor for his threats against its master.

“Revas! Stop that!” The elf glared at the dog, who walked over to stand protectively between its mistress and Nathaniel. “Howe’s a warden now. He’s our friend.”

That startled a laugh from Nathaniel that he couldn’t contain. The elf tilted her head at him curiously.

“How in Thedas can you say we are friends!?” the rogue exclaimed and she had the audacity to look hurt. “Maker woman! I broke into your fortress! I threatened your life! WHY do you trust me!? Why did you risk you life to save mine?! I don’t understand you!”

The elf opened her mouth to respond, but stopped and shook her head.

“TELL ME!” he demanded, taking a step toward her before the Commander’s Mabari growled at him with raised hackles and forced him to remember himself. Backing off, Nathaniel growled in frustration as he ran fingers through his hair. His normally calm and calculated exterior was blown apart. “Andraste’s ashes, I understand your dog more than I understand you.”

“Look.” Tabris took a step forward, ignoring her hound and grabbing his arm. “As to why I pulled that Shriek off you . . . well, you’re one of mine now. You’re a warden and you are under my command. I take care of mine. I would have leapt in front of that shriek for anyone else I lead. I’m a warrior and a reaver, and I’m practically built for taking damage in my plate mail. I’m a shield for my people. Grievous bodily harm comes with the territory. Ask Anders, he whines about patching me up often enough.”

The Howe just shook his head. “How can you possibly think of me as yours? Why did you even spare me in the first place!? I’m the son of your enemy!”

The elf sighed, looking suddenly exhausted, “I get that it’s hard for you to accept that I would look at you as one of mine with all our fucked up past and my having killed your dad. No offense, but your dad was a fucking asshole. I know it ain’t pleasant to hear and maybe he wasn’t always like that, but when I met him he was a murdering, torturing psychopath, blinded by ambition. Thedas was better off without him.” (Nathaniel gave the Commander points for not dancing around the subject even as his scowl deepened.) “But you’re not your dad. I could hardly judge you for his crimes. Besides, I talked to Lucius.”

Nathaniel jumped at the name. “That old codger is still alive!?”

“And still chasing off all the wild kids out of his gardens.” Tabris smiled mischievously.

“Maker,” the rogue smiled, forgetting himself for a moment, “that old bastard tanned my hide too many times to count. He taught me how to fire my first bow.”

“He said as much.” The warrior moved to lean against the wall. “He also said you were crap at it.”

Nathaniel scowled and Tabris laughed. But then, the spell was broken. They both remembered the subject at hand. Nathaniel looked away, unwilling to like this woman who had murdered his father. She continued, “Anyway, he said you were a good kid. That you had been away studying in the Free Marches and didn’t deserve all this crap that had happened while you were gone. He said you were just a lost man looking for a purpose the last place you had had one, and he asked for leniency.

“I couldn’t release you after you threatened to come back and kill me, even though I know an empty threat when I hear one, so I conscripted you. The warden life is hard and, ultimately, a death sentence with a thirty year grace period, but I saw your strength. I knew you could make something out of it.”

“So you spared me because of some old gardener’s request?” Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief.

“In part.” The Commander nodded. “But you also reminded me of . . . well, a younger me.”

The rogue raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Tabris rolled her shoulders before squaring up to face him again. “You remember that prick son of the last arl of Denerim?”

Nathaniel’s lip curled in disgust. “Vaughn?” He never had like the man.

“Long story short. He hurt one of mine and took my future so I went through his castle and killed him and a score of his guards.” The rogue’s jaw dropped in shock and a feral grin took over elf’s face for a moment, but then a frown took its place. “It was satisfying, sinking my blade through his chest, watching him choke on his own blood. But it didn’t undo what he had done to my cousin, what he had done to countless other women before her. It certainly stopped him from doing it in the future. Vengeance was hollow, and it hurt the people I was trying to protect when it came back to the alienage.

“I knew all I had waiting for me was the hangman’s noose and better the guard took it out on me than the entire alienage, so I turned myself in. I had no purpose after that so my death didn’t matter. Not that much, anyway.

“The last Commander of the Grey thought differently. He conscripted me, saved my life, gave me purpose. I figured with all the shit facing you that I was kind of responsible for, the least I could do was offer you the same chance.”

“Do you regret it?” He asked, “Killing Vaughn?”

Tabris looked the rogue straight in the eye. “Never. He was an animal and unrepentant to the end. There is no justice for men like him in this country. I stopped him the only way I could. I only regret my methods.”

She took a step back, drawing up to full height and eying the Howe with a blank face. “The question you need to decide for yourself before we can go any further is: what sort of person am I? I have killed hundreds of people, your father included. Some I regret, some I don’t. Am I a monster who needs to be put down? Do you still want your revenge?”

Nathaniel looked at the woman, truly seeing her for the first time. “No.” He looked at the ground. “By now I’ve seen the evidence. I know my father fell. That he was not a good man when he died. I know you did what you had to and I will try . . . not to blame you for it any more. It is difficult, though.”

The commander nodded. “I understand.”

“I . . . That is –Thank you, Commander.” The rogue looked back up to the woman who was leaning against the battlements, clutching her side gingerly, “For saving my life. Twice now.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in an uneven grin and she nodded. “Get some rest, Howe.”


End file.
